it’s not like we’re strangers

it’s not like we’re strangers,
it’s not like you are a shattered shell of a galoot,
it’s not like we don't have a web site on the world wide interweb,
twelve years in the making since the last millennium

i knew you before you ever met her
all you had to say was “she’s outa town”
but when i saw you on thursday
you said i don’t know if she’ll be here tomorrow

then, the next day, you said
“she can't make it”
then today, Saturday, at the pool
and i say, is veronica coming?

and what's your response to this legitimate, heartfelt query?
you, the old dork spacecadet of the new millennium,
you look trapped, nervous, weak and guilty
and you mutter, "who veronica. . . ?
oh, didn’t i tellya’? . . . ah, she's in dallas . . ."

and in a none-too-calm voice,
justifiably, with exasperation and consternation,
and a bitter dose of incredulity i inquire,
“dallas? veronica is in dallas?
why didn’t you say so yesterday?”

you stand there with your thumb up your ass
which inspires me to probe more deeply
"what crossed your mind when i asked two days ago?
why didn't you say veronica is in texas?"

you look dumber by the second
so I scream, "what's your name, you idiot?"
then I get it
"she's not in dallas, is she?
you don't know where she is!
she can't tell you where she is
'cause she's in the witness protection program

and she can't tell you where you are
you can't comprehend anything any more
'cause you're in the witness stupefaction program.
slowly programmed to give vague
half-hearted, inappropriate answers to simple personal questions,
effectively germinating confusion
and keeping you isolated from human beings
i think next time, i'll call veronica. (or i'll ask veronica herself)